


Cadence

by Lolibat



Category: Bleach
Genre: Drabbles, M/M, UraIchi Week, Uraichi - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:21:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24370489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lolibat/pseuds/Lolibat
Summary: Uraichi event drabbles (for 2020), themes:D1: Reincarnation- Urahara, we're moving inD2: Author's choice- BenihimeD3: First Meetings- Ichigo gets a glimpse at the pastD4: Post War- Doctor! IchigoD5: Accidental Dating- following D4D6: Demons- mythological creature IchigoD7: Outsiders- Three outsiders looking in
Relationships: Kurosaki Ichigo/Urahara Kisuke
Comments: 15
Kudos: 205
Collections: UraIchi Week 2020





	Cadence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cywscross](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cywscross/gifts).



_Write down, to remind yourself on how it can be, how it can be_  
_Heartstrings, you're tugging at my heartstrings_

Uraichi D1: Reincarnation- Shiba Kaien

Kaien remembers being himself- and not himself. He lives a duality; a life where he remembers his past, and one where he lives his future when he wakes up. He remembers joy of finding the love of his live- and the pain of losing her. He remembers his third seat's anguish and his own relief at dying- finally. 

Yet, despite all odds, his story didn't end there. He woke up to a tired redhead holding him close to her and (what the actual fuck) Uncle Isshin changing his diapers. Ichigo. His new name is Kurosaki (not Shiba, as it should be) Ichigo. First Protector. Also, strawberry extraordinaire. 

He knew from the start that something was off with this body; for one, no living child should have such high reiatsu levels. For two, his mother was something of a Quincy (he spies the Quincy cross on her wrist- on her jewelry, yet curiously she had not a drop of reiatsu of her own). His uncle was now his father (what a mind trip that was) who also curiously does not have any reiatsu of his own. That name- first protector. It bode ill for him. As a clan head, he knows of the old lores and traditions that many others would have long since forgotten. Names have great power, even in Soul Society. To give their first born child such a name was to expect trouble brewing on the horizon. And they knew it- they all did. Hirako, Kisuke, Yoruichi, his uncle. 

So it was up to him to protect his family. The first prototype weapon. To wage war against Aizen at a yet undetermined time. He was sure that his genetic blueprint had Kisuke's fingerprints all over it. In some way or form. The thought of Kisuke messing around with his genetic makeup brought a grimace to his face. He knew the man had no morals, but to live the consequences of his madcap experiments was... unpleasant. 

As such, he sticks close to his mother this time around. For one, he never had much time to spend with his mother his first life, and for two, he doubts she knows the full story behind his name and the situation in Soul Society. She is a Quincy, and her husband was not. The two races got along about as well as oil and water (not counting a massive war in between them). Once a Shinigami, always a shinigami. But she was his mother now, and Kaien couldn't care if she was a Quincy, a hollow, or a flying pig. He would protect her, and that's that. 

Only, he fails to do even that. He grieves by the riverbank, day in and day out. He can't do kido. This body has no control over its hybrid reiatsu. He can't summon Nejibana; she's not his soul, not this time around, even if his mind remembers her. He can't fight- his fists are small, his muscles untrained. He can't do anything, he despairs. She dies, and he couldn't do anything.

In the aftermath of his mother's death, he grew to resent Isshin (his father, he thinks now with disgust). The twins are young and still can't take care of themselves. If he was a normal child, he would surely have died already- if not from guilt then from an accident... because lo behold, his absentee father can't care less to make sure they don't set themselves on fire trying to cook. It was remniscent of how he raised Ganju and Kukaku on his own, when his parents died. He couldn't believe that Isshin would do that to his own children- after watching the three of them struggle.

He's not completely hopeless where he's at though; he has milk delivery every morning (even though he know while sorting his mail that they are not the ones getting billed for it). There's always a basket of food on their door step in the afternoon when he returns from school. On occasion, there is even take out resting on the counter. 

He'd be more concerned over a stranger trespassing if it didn't have Kisuke's reiatsu signature all over it. What Hirako was doing, he didn't know. But he doubts the old captain had much to do with the situation anyways; he was as much of a victim as they were. 

Now, if only that damn shut in was a bit more direct with his help... 

It was one day, when Yuzu was trying to reach the stove, slipped, and scalded her arm (a four year old trying to balance a pot of boiling water... ) that he decided enough was enough. 

"Yuzu, keep that ice on your arm for ten minutes more, okay?" He said gently, kneeling down. "I'm going to find some help." 

Turning to his other sister, he said, "Karen, keep an eye on her. You two be good for me- I'll be right back." 

After making sure that all the stoves were off and that all sharp and pointy things were put away (better, this time), he left and locked the door. He had somewhere to be. 

It is a ten minute walk to Urahara's candy shop (and if that wasn't a shady occupation for someone like Urahara, he doesn't know what is). He thought about what it would mean, to seek help from Urahara of all people. What he would do, if he knew that his new toy has the mind of a vice captain. What Isshin would do, when the cat's out of the bag (Would he apologize? He doubts it). He thinks on the childhood he would willingly give up to ensure that his sisters had theirs (again, like his own siblings- but he couldn't even spare them that much, he knows). 

He knocked. Twice. He didn't wait before shoving the door wide open, to Urahara's surprise. The man was sitting on the floor, enjoying a cup of tea. The only telltale sign of his surprise was the slight widening of his eyes beneath the green and white wide brimmed hat. 

"Urahara Kisuke, you are going to take responsibility for your actions starting today." He said with his voice as firm as a six year old could make it. "We're moving in." 

* * *

_Burning, like Joan of Arc to see you, just to feel you  
Cadence, well I'll dance with the dead cause I believe_

Uraichi D2: Benihime

Benihime knew from the first time she felt her wielder's longing for the princess he accompanies that it will all end in tragedy. She knew in her bones that her wielder will know no other princess than hers truly though his lifetime. She shares her throne with no one, let alone another who will not spare even a look for her beloved. She is not surprised when it all fell apart. What she is- is raging, crimson fury. 

How dare she? He dare she put her wielder though what she does? To stain his soul so irreversibly black that only stars and fireflies are left of the sunlight that used to be her realm. How dare she play him like a toy, to be discarded at a whim? A woman who knows and discards her own soul- owns a blade yet never draws it- it is an insult of the highest grade. And even to her own beloved, to accept this treatment as his due- as his norm- when she knows at he deserves more. 

(He deserves the world, she knows, and she'll find it for him). 

He knows of her fury, knows of her righteous anger, and says nothing of it. He merely looks at the reflection of his soul with sadness in his eyes and smiles. The fireflies around him gather in wisps; the cicadas sing in the background. He ignores the tea set in disarray on the patio and the slashes through the rice paper screen. He doesn't return to his soulscape again. 

And so she broods, growing mold, sequestered away in a world that is always neverending twilight. She plots from within, dreaming and seeing the world from her wielders eyes. 

Until one day, his wielder holds within his hands a miniature sun. Not the abomination he created (one that will haunt him to his grave, she knows). But a bright sun, barely the size of a small cat, wrapped in soft warm cloths with a fuzz of orange covering his head. She feels his echo of wonder (and a hint of oily-sheened guilt and plotting) reverberate through his soul, and she thinks... interesting. 

The cogs in her mind turn, but to her disappointment, he no longer visited the small child with all the potential of the world. His guilt will drown him, strangle him wordlessly in his sleep, and he'll let it, she thinks with annoyance. He keeps himself busy with tinkering around with various projects, which bore her all the same. What does she care of his science when she is a princess dressed in the blood of their enemies?

Until, one day, the child found her wielder instead. And what a wonder this child has grown up to be! (All the potential in the world. This boy is no princess. He knows no liege, owes no allegiance.) 

The world. She'll find it for him. He deserves no less, she knows. 

:I know you can see me, you insolent child. How dare you ignore me?:

* * *

_The closer I come to you_  
_The closer I am to finding God_  
_You're a miracle to me_

Uraichi D3: First meetings

"Who are you?" Ichigo asks, staring at a shadow across the deserted wasteland. He didn't know how he entered his soulscape, but he had a pretty good idea what brought him there; it was after all, on his impulse that he ripped the Hogyoku out of Aizen's hand the same time he stole away the Kyogyoku Suigetsu's empty sheath. The horror he felt at hearing that Aizen fed his own zanpakuto to the Hogyoku is only second to his anger. 

Before he could even begin to knock some sense into Aizen's head by brute force, he was abruptly pulled inwards into his soulscape... With Shiro and the Old Man nowhere to be seen. Immediately he spied movement from the corner of his eyes and went on the defensive. 

It was a shade, of someone very familiar. In front of him stood Urahara Kisuke- in all his bucket hat and sandals glory. Or at least, an image of him some decades younger.

"Don't worry, no one will notice you're gone. Time won't flow when you're here. I won't allow it to." The ghost smiled at him with crinkled eyes, a look that did not comfort Ichigo in the slightest. 

The shade walked forward, brushing aside Ichigo's raised sword with the tip of one finger. The blade did not even penetrate the skin. He walked close, not stopping even when Ichigo visibly tensed.

"Tell me, God-Slayer. What do you wish for? Let me grant you your heart's desire. Here at the world's end, tell me what you will live for. What you will die for- let me give it to you." the spirit whispered, the words brushing against Ichigo's mind like a breeze. He stood firm on his ground even as the Hogyoku leaned in dangerously close, his breath mingling with Ichigo's own. Wisps of dirty blonde hair brushed his own, though he dared not look the shadow in the eyes lest they swallow him whole.

He briefly wondered what it said about him, that his desire manifested as a shadow of his mentor. And what it said about Urahara's broken state of mind, that he created something so very desperate to please- something that mirrored him in image. 

He pushed the Hogyoku away firmly from where the shade was nearly on top of him, keeping him at an arm's distance. He was careful to keep his tone kind but firm "No," he said. "What I wish for- what I want- I don't need you to give it to me. I'll find it myself." 

The shade tilted his head delicately to one side, his smile growing wider. "Or maybe, what you wish for most, you already have... If only you would open your eyes," he whispered, one hand reaching up to gently caress Ichigo's face.

The next second Ichigo blinked, and he was back on the battleground, panting harshly as Aizen turned to dust before him. The first thing he saw was a haze of dust as a madman turned the ashes. The second thing he saw was Urahara, with Benihime pulsing with power in his hand. 

Ichigo stared at the quiescent orb in his hand, and then back to the wary Urahara. He ripped off a strip of his robe and wrapped the orb, carefully making sure no parts were exposed. Only then, did he dare hand it back to his mentor. 

Making a split second decision (with his heart leaping through his throat all the same), he swallowed and said, "Oi Geta-boushi,"he failed to sound as casual as he wanted- "I met the Hogyoku. You didn't tell me he looked just like you." 

A slight widening of the eyes was Ichigo's only clue that the statement meant something to Urahara. "Did you now, Ichigo?" he said with a slight crinkling of the eyes. "Sounds like you had an interesting meeting."

* * *

_And if these are my parting words_  
_Then make this my last request_

Uraichi D4: Post war doctor Ichigo

After the Quincy war, Ichigo wanted nothing more to do than to rest, recover, and move on with his life. His human life, that is. He still wanted to keep in touch with his Shinigami friends and his allies among the arrancar, but they needed to recuperate their losses too. And so, Ichigo goes back to his life as a high schooler (meaning, always racing Ishida to the top in their race for rank and knowledge, the two of them outstripping everyone else- even the teachers- now that nothing was in their way anymore). In the end, the two of them tied for first (something that no one was surprised about). 

Ichigo knew from the beginning that Ishida would take over the Karakura hospital for Ryuuken (his damnable sense of responsibility), but what about himself? Isshin only had a small clinic; no one would particularly miss it if it were to close down. So now that the apocalypse has been avoided, the dimensions put back to their topsy-turvy state of normalcy, where was his place in the world?

Ichigo sat down and stared hard at his calloused, scarred hands.... he didn't want to use these hands to kill anymore. He's a protector at heart, but killing in the name of protection... isn't it still killing? Who was there to protect the ones whom he killed? His mind made up, he filled in his college application forms and sent them off. 

The look on Ishida's face when he entered the lecture hall oh his first day and saw Ichigo saving a seat for him was enough to send Ichigo into cackles (so what if he learned a bit more than necessary from Hirako? Spend enough time with the man, and he grows on you like a fungus). The fact that Ichigo still challenges him for valedictorian spot even in med school was almost enough to give the Quincy an aneurysm. Almost. The days were hard, the nights were long... med school for them, was a different kind of hell. A different kind of war. Nonetheless, they persevere- if even a god couldn't take down the two of them, neither would med school. 

They earned their white coats (and even Ichigo would acknowledge that Ishida looked pretty spiffy in his, especially since he tailored it to fit him exactly. Himself on the other hand? It clashed horribly with his hair.) They earned their hell year, earned their experience. Before long, they were finally back at Karakura Hospital- the two newest rising stars who graduated with honors. The sleepy small town couldn't be prouder. 

But medicine isn't anything Ichigo could have imagined- or prepared for. It isn't a war he can solve by swinging a blade. There is no blade; the pen in his hand is his weapon, and it alone changes the lives of those he touches. He doesn't send those who die pass on. He's the one trying to snatch them back from the edge, save them against the odds. Each breath they take, each heart beat they have is a victory in itself. He could look death in the eyes and say not today.

But he doesn't always win. And who is it that victory belongs to? Whose battle is it to fight? He's fighting a war will never end, but there is no God Slayer this time. Ichigo contemplates as he sits at the bedside of an old lady, holding her skeletal hand as the pulse grows weaker... weaker... and then stops. It will be at least half an hour until rigor mortis sets in- he knows that much by his experience. But he fought so hard to save her- in the face of her family's grief (surely, they are crying outside- they visit her every day to bring foods that she likes) and his own desperation. She always has a smile for him though she can hardly hear him, always waves and bows her head in thanks to him even if he did nothing more than to adjust a pillow. 

They beg him- the him wearing a white coat that feels heavier than any armor- to save their family. He tries, but to what end? Connected to a machine, gasping and breathing her last days... wouldn't it be kinder to let her go? 

For once, Ichigo doesn't know who he's fighting, or who's the enemy, or even if... there was a fight at all. Who was he protecting, if not his own ego? Is this what is best for his patient? Or is it medicine for him? What is his purpose here? 

He stands alone, proud, tired, and shrouded in white. He is used to being judged, being made a scapegoat, but here- he feels invisible weight of judgement on him no matter where he does (he can't hide- not with a banner of white on him- not when these people depend on him.) He stands up and speaks out for the most vulnerable- the non communicable, the weak, the elderly, the sick. If he won't speak out for them, then who will? They are the ones who need him the most- there's nowhere in the world that he can hide from his own conscience.

By the time he was done thinking, the hand in his grasp had gone cold and stiff. He lays the hand gently across the old lady's chest, tucks it under a blanket as if it can spare her a bit of warmth. He takes a deep breath and gets up to certify her death.

* * *

_Helpless, I have become so helpless to your touch_  
_Touch me somehow_

Uraichi D5: Accidental dating

It started with Urahara checking on them in the midst of finals exams. It was exam seasons, with finals barely three weeks away, and he had roped Ishida into cramming with him (again). They'd randomly shout out questions and quiz each other and practice their exams (he doesn't notice the way his eyes darken when he sees the scars Ywach puts on his friend, the same way he pretends he doesn't see the way his friend scowls at all of the scars that crisscross his own body). Two hours turn into six, six turn into eight... and somehow, they've forgotten to eat lunch (again), and all the take out shops are closed for the night. Like true blue college kids, they live on cup noodles and hope. 

It was to their surprise that one day, their doorbell rang (is that what their doorbell sounded like?) and in popped Urahara with an arm full of groceries and even more takeout food in reheatable containers. 

"Delivery!" He said cheerfully as he raided their fridge and tossed everything out. 

"Did you do this, Kurosaki?" Ishida asked, his hair in disarray and dark under eye circles stacking one on top of another. 

"Do you honestly think I would?" Ichigo asked drily. "Oi Geta-boushi, what the fuck?" 

"Language, Ichigo-kun! A kitty told me you lot haven't left this place in weeks, and being the kind neighborhood shopkeeper I am, I just had to make sure you didn't starve!" 

Ichigo looked at Ishida and wondered if he was hallucinating. But he is really hungry, now that Urahara mentioned it. 

The meal delivery service (attacks? Breaking and entering? Larceny?) doesn't stop there; it intensifies, if anything else. Exams were just the tip of the iceberg. As a bona fide doctor, there are days more often than not when he would miss lunch, leave work late at night and can't be bothered to cook dinner... (Food is optional, in this occupation. Rounds are not.) And Ichigo just can't seem to shake Urahara off no matter how busy his life gets.

There would be a bento with his name sticky-tagged on it in the staff room refrigerator (he misses Yuzu, but she's all the way over at Hokkaido doing some crazy life and death cooking contest in that culinary school of hers). There would be a thermos of matcha and tea cakes waiting for him at his usual room in afternoon clinic. At home, his clothing would be cleaned, dried, folded and neat on the couch even though he swears he'd do the laundry tomorrow... or the day after. 

On occasion, when he's finished a thirty-two hour overnight call (dead tired, mentally tired, achingly tired), he'd find the shopkeeper himself loitering the main entrance of the hospital, a box of take out in one hand. One box became two boxes. His lonely apartment became the candy shop. More often than not, he'd crash there on his old tatami at the shop and simply sleep until the next day. Eventually, more and more of his clothes accumulated in the shop, and then lunches started including dinners, and dinners meant late night alcohol (now that he was legal enough to drink). 

He wondered sometimes, why Urahara even bothered. The closest he could reason was that this is another way that the shopkeeper is repenting for his past actions (in all honesty, Ichigo forgave him a very long time ago, and he even said so as much). There were days, when he would muse over his cases (dead, alive, dying- aren't they all the same?) over a cup of sake, and he'd find Urahara staring at him contemplatively. (Is that sorrow in his eyes? Maybe he's had one too many to drink.)

"Congratulations, Ichigo. You have old eyes now," he muttered. "For what it's worth, I'm proud of you," he says. Whatever the hell that meant. He might be dreaming this up. He knows he has changed from his work. Away from the adrenaline rush, away from the battle... he sees all of society's problems, the dark ugly side of humanity that everyone is so desperate to hide. He deals with death more intimately than he had before. Even if some of the light has long since faded from his eyes- even if he grows jaded- it is simply just a part of the price for his work. 

(A life of endless sacrifice, a life born to sacrifice, he can't think of of job that suits him more. Undead God-Slayer doesn't pay bills, unfortunately.)

(He doesn't know, but to someone also with old eyes like Urahara, it means the world to him that Ichigo gained his perspective from saving lives and not from stealing them in the dead of night.)

One day grows to six, one week grows to three months, and Ichigo finds himself enjoying the quiet company; the last thing he wants to do is return to an empty apartment after work with only his thoughts. He knows where that road leads (has seen it in more than one colleague) and doesn't want to walk down that path. It leads to a dead end, he knows.

Status quo wasn't bad. Status quo was welcomed, even. Status quo was a tea in the clinic, take out for dinner, and a drink to round up the night. And then Rukia had to go and punch his new normal into oblivion- "How long have you been dating Urahara, Ichigo? I thought you had better taste than that." She asked bluntly over lunch one weekend. Ichigo nearly choked on his yakitori skewer. She unhelpfully walked over to thump his back. He thinks that if she hits just a little bit harder, she'll crack a rib.

"What? We're not dating-"

"Are you sure, Ichigo?" was the very unimpressed answer with two raised eyebrows. "Or did you guys jump straight to married?"

So what the shopkeeper knew his clothing sizes (he can't be bothered to go shopping) and his favorite dishes and which brands of sake to get? A man has to eat (maybe). 

But then he really started to pay attention- he's going to prove Rukia wrong of course- and he realized... maybe some of those stares don't exactly look like an expression of regret.

Well shit, he's dating Urahara Kisuke and he didn't even know it.

* * *

_Restless, you leave me restless_  
_Breathless wait for me_

Uraichi D6: Demons

Hidden among the cracks and crevices of the dimensions... are yokai. Demons, with a society and rules of their own. They have long since been driven from above ground in the Great Wars, centuries past. Now they exist only in imaginations of a few. Old lore is the only evidence that they were ever there at all. Kicked to the curb and forgotten, is it really a wonder that they use what tricks they have to gain the upper hand? 

Ichigo looks out into the horizon, enjoying the wind with his wings unfurled for once. He sees the society they've built. It's been centuries, but the tales of the Great Wars pass down generations. They've survived, what remnants that fled. He briefly wonders how the humans will manage- without them to act as balance between nature and humanity, wouldn't their society collapse? Then, he snorts, a trail of smoke drifting up lazily. The lot of them could all rot, for all he cared.

"Ichigo," a voice called behind him. Warm hands drape across his shoulders, pulling him back into an embrace. He allowed it, leaning into the warm touch. "Kaien's going to go spare if you keep disappearing like that."

He looked up to find amused hazel eyes, a pair of ears that were twitching from the wind, and nine tails curling slowly around his limbs. 

"Hey," he says. "Kaien should know better by now. He's the head of a clan of dragons. If we didn't get our space, we'd burn the house down within a week."

"He's worried you'd get kidnapped." Ichigo reached to tickle the tip of one of the tails. He got a gentle whack to the head from his efforts. And a twitch from the tail.

"That's not going to happen, and we both know it." Ichigo's the Gotei's best fighter; a resplendent dragon in bright orange, scales and slender body filling the skies, a fire that could set mountains ablaze. If it weren't for Kaien's elemental advantage and his experience, Ichigo would have challenged him to an official battle. Well, and he has no desire to appease a bunch of wrinkled old prunes. He's not sure where his cousin finds the patience to do so, but it is certainly not inherited.

"Mah, he's just worried for you." Kisuke's eyes crinkled in laughter. "Just as well- the Soutaicho summoned everyone to an emergency meeting."

"The Soutaicho?" Ichigo sat up in alarm. "Why didn't you say so sooner?" he glared at his trickster of a love. 

"You were looking so relaxed- I couldn't bear to startle you." Ichigo blew a face full of smoke in his direction. 

"What is it this time?" He asked, brushing the dirt of his clothes. He spied the grim look on Kisuke's face, and he knew the answer. 

"The angels are invading." Four words to end the tranquility to his days. Dread curls in his gut in equal measures to the battle-fever that steadily rises to a simmer in his mind.

Ichigo takes a deep breath before grinning, sharpened canines gleaming in the sunlight. So the angels want to bring their God and fight, hm...? "Bring it."

* * *

_Hold me here, until I sleep_  
_If I burn, then I burned for you_

Uraichi D7: Outsiders

Hirako always knew that Urahara was meant for someone more... stable than Yoruichi. He was volatile, a twitchy little captain to a twitchy ticking time bomb- always fragile, always to be handled with care if not outright caution. Someone flighty (or flight risk, depending on who you ask) like the first princess of the Shihouin just wouldn't do for someone like Urahara. But he knew- much like Yoruichi knew- that Urahara was a useful person to have in his pocket, so he kept silent on the matter. Urahara's not stupid enough to pretend to know otherwise, and it was none of his business anyways. If he wants to stay dreaming, then far be it for him to pop that particular bubble.

But never in a million years, did he expect a teenage mortal to be Urahara's perfect fit, his rock in the middle of a storm, the missing piece to the puzzle that Yoruichi can never fit. He surveyed the ruined basement training ground, his eyes tracking where Ichigo and Urahara traded lightning fast blows, he wondered how he could have ever thought anything else; he has never seen Urahara smile like that. Well, he thought with a grin, maybe he'll show up to their wedding with the biggest, most obnoxious bouquet of tiger lilies in Ichigo's honor. It shouldn't be too long now, he thinks.  
\---

Rukia always thought it was stupid that that half of Soul Society expected her to fall in love with Ichigo. For one, she was a Kuchiki (adopted or not). Even if Ichigo slayed a god and saved the world, the clan would never allow a part Quincy/Hollow/Shinigami/mortal hybrid to pollute the bloodline (nevermind that she's also adopted). For two, it was blatantly obvious to her that Ichigo was simply not interested in the female gender; he had a girl sleeping in his closet for months on the end, and he never even cared to look twice at her. How anyone missed that fact was beyond Rukia's comprehension.

It spoke volumes, to her at least, that Ichigo would willingly stay at the candy shop months after the end of the war, saving items from the wreckage, rebuilding the shop and repairing what he could. He even built a small shrine in the back and regularly set mementos on there. She has seen enough death to know what mourning looks like, and so she leaves him alone.   
\---

Yoruichi never once thought of Kisuke as a lover, despite the nights they spent together (nights desperate for even the smallest shred of humanity, to have something that fills that emptiness in their souls). She was selfish- she knew- to drag her childhood friend into the hellhole she was born into, but her only consolation was that she was selfless enough to let him go. It was for his own good, to push him away from her (so he could find the happiness he too deserves- but not with her), though she doubts he would see it this way. 

She would never forget the heartbreak in his eyes when she asked him to hand in his onmitsukido uniform. (Silly boy, to fall in love with the darkness that steals your soul away. She can't leave the throne she was born to, but he is a free bird, caged only by his guilt.) So she walked away first, turned her back first, but she desperately hoped that he would not chase after her shadows, the way he thought he had to.

It was only until Kisuke found his own sun that he stopped chasing after the dark. Like a moth to the light, Kisuke followed, walking away from her once and for good. (She pretends she doesn't miss him- doesn't miss the safety of knowing that someone is always watching her back. But she knows that Kisuke was never a creature of the night, and so, she takes a deep breath and lets go.)

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> D2- Benihime's line is a special homage and reference to the one and only cywscross. Kudos to the first person who figures out where Benihime's line came from.
> 
> D3-4: At least 60-75% true of my daily work. Sadly, it is true that some days I end up skipping meals (though nowadays I try to at least sit down for seven minutes to scarf something down).
> 
> Also, fic is dedicated to cywscross... because it's your fault I even ship this pairing to begin with.
> 
> Fic title is from one of my favorite Anberlin songs.


End file.
